


no other version of me

by FlyingJo



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, Hillary introduced them, Love at First Sight, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, pre-christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21710674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingJo/pseuds/FlyingJo
Summary: Someone is running late, there's a State Department party and a fortuitous meeting - that's how it all starts. Ronan's POV.
Relationships: Ronan Farrow/Jon Lovett
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56
Collections: Crooked Secret Santa 2019





	no other version of me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [itre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itre/gifts).

> I hope you enjoy this little story. It isn't quite Christmas at the farm - I was going there, but got side-tracked on the way by these two idiots in love. And chapter two of the actual Christmas at the farm just wasn't happening in time for the deadline, but hopefully I'll be able to add it soon. I loved writing these two. Happy Holidays!
> 
> I stole (referenced?) a Schitt's Creek scene for this, so partial writing credit goes to Dan Levy, I guess. 
> 
> Secret = safe. Keep it that way!

A door slams somewhere further down the flight of offices and Ronan startles, being pulled out of his writing focus. He catches sight of the time on the bottom corner of his computer screen and swears.

Damn, he is running really late now. And even if he wasn’t particularly looking forward to the event, one does not turn down an explicit invitation from one’s boss, especially if that boss is the Secretary of State.

He grabs a fresh shirt from his back-up clothes stash and ducks into the nearest bathroom to change. He casts a critical look at himself in the mirror as he’s re-tying his tie. Running a hand across his very patchy beard, he briefly considers shaving, but then he’d be so late that he might as well not bother going at all.

And while he would prefer to get some more work done on his report, Ronan knows that he should make the most of the party. There aren’t going to be that many more government events he’ll be invited to before he leaves for Cambridge and he has several people he’d like to see again before leaving.

Thinking about that, he pulls out his phone as he locks up his office, and sees two missed calls from his mum – he really should call her.

But before that, he pulls up his texts

*Hey Vietor, you at the state dep shindig?*

Jogging along the fairly empty rows of austere offices, Ronan rounds a corner and almost collides with someone.

“Shit! Sorry, Ken. Didn’t mean …” he starts, steadying himself on the wall to avoid knocking over the guy in front of him.

Ken just laughs at him. Ken’s one of those old state department people, been here forever, very proper and serious, incredibly knowledgeable. Ronan really likes him, especially because Ken was always very kind to him at the beginning of his time at State, when no one, including himself, would take him serious and Holbrook was constantly shouting at him. Everyone who had treated him just like a normal staffer finding his feet, in those first few months when he felt unsure and undeserving of his place, held a special place in his heart.

“Running late again, Farrow?”

“Yeah, of course I am.” Ronan shrugs with a self-deprecating grin.

“You’re not going to the ambassador’s celebration tonight, then?” Ronan asks.

“Nah, I’m on call prep with Tokyo tonight for the big visit next month.” Ken replies, waving his giant coffee cup.

“Oh, that sucks, man. Hope the Japanese are cooperating.” Ronan replies.

“As much as they ever are.” Ken says with an eye role. The Japanese are, while great allies, difficult partners to negotiate with. “You enjoy your evening now. Make the most of the night.”

“Yeah, I’ll do my best.” Ronan grins back at Ken and waves him off as he makes his way down the stairs and out of the State department building.

***

As Ronan steps out of the building a wall of hot humid air hits him. Even on a late August night, DC never lets you forget that it is built on a swamp.

He pulls out his phone again as he starts walking towards the Metro and he is glad to see that Tommy responded to his earlier message.

*Shindig???*

*Sure thing, grandpa.*

*Yeah, I’m here. Not many interesting people though. And the food is almost gone.*

_Great. Of fucking course_ Ronan sighs to himself.

*Thanks, Vietor. You make that sound very appealing. At least I’ll have your sterling company to look forward to… See you in 20*

Ronan types.

Well, he may as well call his mum while he walking to the metro. It’ll be too late by the time he gets out from the event and he hasn’t talked to her in a few days already.

Mia picks up after a few rings.

“Hey, darling!”

“Hi mum! Sorry I missed your calls earlier. I’m just on my way to the metro.” Ronan smiles to himself. It’s always good to hear his mum’s voice. He really looks forward to spending some quality time with her before he leaves for England.

“Oh good. Are you on your way home then?” Mia asks.

“Ha, no. I know…” he interrupts her as he hears her take a breath to complain about him working too much. “I’m on my way to an event. But it’s supposed to be a fun thing.”

“Okay, okay.” Mia laughs. “If you are having fun, that’s alright then. I’m glad to hear you are going out. I worry about you, Ronan, you know that. Did you at least have dinner?”

“Yeah, yeah. I did.” Ronan doesn’t feel too bad, because a protein bar at 5 pm essentially counts at dinner, right? Even if you’d only had coffee for lunch, so he isn’t strictly speaking lying to his mum. “But my food habits aside, how are you doing? Did you get the tree removed successfully?”

As Mia talks him through the adventures of tree removal and her plans for the remodeling of the yard behind the barn now that the old fir tree finally came down, Ronan turns the last corner before his metro stop.

“Sorry to interrupt. You’ll have to tell me more about that greenhouse plan next time. I’m just about to jump on the train.” Ronan feels bad for cutting her off, it’s like he never has enough time for what he wants to do.

“Of course, no worries, darling. Have a nice night! I hope you meet some nice people at the event.”

Thanks, mum” Ronan replies, even though he is skeptical about the options of the people he is going to meet. “Have a good night. Love you!”

****

When he gets to the event, the Secretary is just finishing up her speech for the Ambassador, so Ronan grabs a Champaign flute from a passing waiter and settles in at the back of the crowd and tries to figure out who he knows here. Not a lot of familiar faces, or backs of heads from his current vantage point, a couple of State people, some reporters he knows. It looks like an evening of uneventful mingling, maybe he won’t stay too long. He could certainly use the sleep.

As he is contemplating how long he has to stay to be polite, the room around him breaks into applause.

“Before we’ll have more speeches, I’ll give all of you a chance to grab another drink.” Hillary says to all-around polite laughter from the crowd.

Ronan wanders around for a bit and finds a couple of people he knows huddled at a high table covered in finger food plates.

“Hey, did you guys take all the food? Again?” Ronan quips. Amar and Meriam turn to him, shifting so he can join them at the table.

“Well, there has got to be an advantage to being here on time and listening to all the thrilling speeches.” Meriam grins at him, but at the same time she pushes one of the plates over to Ronan.

“Not if one has lovely colleagues like you, apparently.” Ronan gratefully grabs a spring roll. As he bites into the lukewarm roll, he is reminded that he hasn’t eaten any real food today yet.

They chat for a bit, but Ronan isn’t really here to talk with people he talks to every day anyway and he also wants some more food, so after a few minutes he waves his empty glass at them and set of for the bar.

The room is crowded and he has to navigate through throngs of chatting people, and so he nearly runs into the Secretary as he steps out of the way of a widely gesticulating guy.

“Oh, hello. Mr Farrow, so glad you did decide to grace us with your presence.” Hillary interrupts her conversation as she turns to see who bumped into her. And Ronan just laughs, marveling at the fact that he is now comfortable getting ribbed by the Secretary of State for his tardiness.

“Well, I saw almost all of your speech, Madame Secretary. And by that, I mean the last 2 minutes.” He shrugs half-apologetically.

“Your loss, your loss. Here, you should meet Jon Lovett. You’ll get along fabulously. He could never be on time for a meeting either.” Hillary puts a hand on his shoulder and shifts around so that Ronan is pulled into the circle of her previous conversation. The guy she was talking to, who he is now getting introduced to, looks at him with a slightly skeptical look, flicking his curls out of his face with a short head movement.

“Jonathan, this is Ronan Farrow. He used to work on Afghanistan, now he works in liaison with the UN. Ronan, Jonathan Lovett – my former speech writer who joined the dark side and now works for the White house.” Hillary introduces them.

Lovett reaches out the to shake Ronan’s hand.

“Hi, hi. Yes, I’ve… I’ve heard of you. Big fan of your writing.” Ronan stammers slightly as he shakes Jon’s hand. He could kick himself.

Of course, he knows who Jon Lovett is – the Obama speech writing team is famous, well at least in DC adjusted terms, and after the last Correspondent’s Dinner Ronan had made a point of enquiring about who the writers were. And while Ronan is feeling silly for the slightly bungled response that made him sound like a star-struck kid, he can’t help but notice that in addition to being apparently a great writer, Lovett is also really cute.

There are certainly enough striking people around DC, and Ronan has been trying to be more comfortable with himself when he notices a guy that catches his eye, because there is a difference between accepting yourself for who you are and embracing the joyous parts of your sexuality. And Jon, with his curls and big brown eyes is giving Ronan a little flutter of joy in his stomach.

And the guy actually preens under the compliment from Ronan, a slight blush staining his round cheeks, before he tries to deflect.

“Oh yeah, you like my energy policy speeches or the Don’t ask, don’t tell stuff?” Lovett asks, peering up a Ronan through his eyelashes from where he has lowered his head to hide his grin.

Hillary laughs, and Ronan is almost startled that she is still there, so absorbed with Jon.

“Well, I’ll leave you two gentlemen to the mutual admiration society. I have people to catch up with. Jonathan, pleasure to catch up with you.” She claps them both on the shoulder and then departs into the surrounding crowd of people.

Ronan casts around for something interesting to say, as he suddenly very urgently wants to talk to this guy for longer. Possibly the whole evening.

“I have to admit, I’m mainly familiar with my comedy work, Jonathan.” Ronan says, feeling himself put a little lilt on the name. “But I’ll certainly keep an eye out for the energy policy. Sounds fascinating.”

Lovett laughs. “Oh, you are a sweet talker. There really isn’t any need for that though, given how pretty you are.”

Ronan, to his mortification, feels a bright blush rise across his face. _Damn, could he be behaving more like an idiot in this situation,_ Ronan thinks to himself.

“I’m glad it is working for you.” Ronan decides that he has already made enough of a fool of himself, so he might as well go for it and he gives Jonathan what he hopes is a challenging but flirty look.

Jonathan takes a deep drink from his wine glass, looking slightly flustered. Clearly not the reaction he was expecting, which makes Ronan feel better about the whole thing. He is definitely more than fine with Jonathan continuing to flirt with him. Or just talking with him.

And thank goodness, Ronan is saved from the beginnings of an awkward silence by the Ambassador grabbing the mic and gearing up for a speech. Both he and Jonathan turn to face the podium, moving closer together.

Jonathan leans over to him to whisper in his ear. He’s almost the same height as Ronan, only slightly shorter. He barely suppresses a shiver as he feels Jonathan’s breath ghost over his neck.

“Drink for every time he praises the *outstanding importance of the US-Brasilian relationship*?” Jonathan whispers with a conspiratorial look.

Ronan stifles a laugh – “You do realize he was the ambassador to Argentina, right?”

Jonathan hides his laugh in this hand, eyes sparkling as he gazes at Ronan.

“I think that means you have to drink.” Ronan says to Jonathan, raising his glass.

“That definitely wasn’t in the rules I set up, but fine.” Jonathan downs the entire remainder of his red wine and shoots Ronan a challenging look.

“I still feel like I won. Given that we have to now listen to the speech.” Jonathan says.

Ronan wordlessly lifts his glass to his lips and drinks too, keeping his eyes on Jonathan.

The ambassador is droning on, hardly audible in the crowded room with poor acoustics. The words “outstanding importance” definitely are in there somewhere.

Ronan feels his stomach rumble, the two spring rolls from earlier only making him more aware of his hunger. To his mortification, Jonathan must hear it, because he shoots him a look with raised eyebrows.

“Do you want to get out of here and find some food that isn’t served on small plates?” Jonathan asks him in a whisper, with an almost shy look.

And Ronan is certainly going to grab this chance with both hands. Not where he was expecting this night to go, but so much better.

“Yes.” he replies fervently, maybe a bit too fervently. “Honestly, at this stage, I don’t really care about the serving form, as long as it is food.”

****

The two of them sneak out of the reception room together, sharing a conspiratorial grin. Lovett softly guides the big door back into its frame, to minimize the noise.

“Are you going to get in trouble for leaving early?” He asks Ronan.

“Nah. I was here for a full…” he checks his watch, “30 minutes. That’s more than enough.” Ronan can’t believe it has only been half an hour since he arrived, it feels like time had come to a standstill in between then and now, something monumentous had shifted and he got the feeling it had something to do with the guy in front of him, who has currently futzing around on his phone.

“So, are we getting dinner. Or was that just an excuse for you to get out of there?” Ronan asks, very much hoping that they won’t be saying goodbye right now.

“I know this fancy place around the corner, if you are interested.” Ronan adds, trying to make it sound enticing.

Lovett looks up at him from his phone.

“You should know something about me – I’m always down for food. This stunning physique doesn’t come from nothing.” Jonathan says with a self-deprecating smile, patting his tummy.

Ronan feels himself stare, can’t really tear his eyes away from where the motion has tugged open one of the buttons on Jonathan’s shirt, revealing a bit of skin. It is way more erotic than it has any right to be.

“I… ehm…” Ronan swallows, tries to catch his breath. “I’m certainly not complaining. I… I like it.” He stammers, blushing.

Jonathan gives him a confused look, that melts away into something softer, almost like recognition.

“Oh, okay. I see.” Jonathan says softly, more to himself. “Weirdo.” And after a breath, he adds, “So, take me to that fancy restaurant you were talking about.”

When they round a corner two blocks down from the event, Ronan, with a big flourish of his arms, announces: “Here it is, best place in DC for food at this time of the night.”

Jonathan looks up at the golden arches above the doorway for a few seconds, before bursting out into laughter, almost bending in half.

“Oh god, you are the worst. You think you are so funny, don’t you?” Jonathan asks, wiping a tear from his eyes.

“I mean, I clearly am.” Ronan gestures at Jonathan, still hick upping with laughter, and moves to hold the door open.

“Oh, a comedian and a gentleman.” Jonathan quips.

“And starving.” The McDonalds is luckily enough pretty empty, so they get to order very quickly.

Ronan leans over to Jonathan as they are considering the menu.

“It’s dumb, but I can never make up my mind what I want to get here. We never got this as kids and now I sort of want to get everything.” Ronan admits, it may not really be a secret but it certainly feels like one. He doesn’t know why he feels compelled to share this with his guy who he only just met.

“Oh, genius boy. It’s easy – a meal plus one thing.” Jonathan says.

“Oh. Yeah. That… yeah. Not a bad idea.” Ronan replies.

“A brilliant idea, I’ll have you know. TM Jon Lovett.” He says before the lady at the register waves them forward.

***

Over dinner, Ronan figures out 3 things. 1) Jonathan is even funnier than his speeches suggest with a sharpness to his humor that works perfectly with Ronan’s own snarky dorkiness. 2) Jonathan is leaving DC soon, too. 3) He would never forgive himself if he doesn’t at least try to do something about this feeling that makes his stomach flutter and the back of his throat feel tight with desire.

***

They stand at the street corner where they have established that their paths split, Ronan heading home, Lovett heading back to the WH to wait for a stroke of inspiration on a speech.

Ronan knows that if he wants something to happen, he has to make a move now, before the evening ends, but he can’t quite make himself do it. He knows he wants to, but still, somehow, taking that final plunge feels like an insurmountable hurdle. So, he stuck trying to drag the conversation out more and hoping Jonathan will do something.

Jonathan is regarding him speculatively, looking like he is doing some sort of mental calculation, as they lapse into silence. And then he gives a small nod, like to himself, and leans forward, pressing his mouth to Ronan’s in a short and dry kiss.

And oh…. Okay. So that’s what kissing a guy feels like. Ronan takes a deep breath as Jonathan pulls back, something settling in the very core of him. He’d kissed people before, obviously, but only women, and he’d known, been sure of himself, that he definitely liked guys, too. But still, knowing and _knowing_ are two different things.

He feels a smile bloom across his face, can’t even really do anything to suppress it, sure that this is all written out across his face.

“Thank you.” Ronan says, feeling like a dork about this, but just deeply needing Jonathan to know what this means to him.

Jonathan looks at him, like that is a pretty insane response to a kiss, which - fair point.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night…. And I was worried that it wouldn’t happen…. So thank you for making this happen for us.” Ronan continues. “I…. I’ve …. Never done this before. …. With a guy.”

Jonathan’s eyes go wide at that admission and Ronan hopes he didn’t just blow this by admitting his inexperience. But he doesn’t have long to worry, as Jonathan reaches out tenderly, cupping his face and pulling him back in.

Just before their mouths touch again, Jonathan whispers: “If this is your first gay kiss, you deserve so much better.”

Then Jonathan closes the distance between them and very thoroughly kisses him.

When they part, Ronan is almost surprised that they are still on the dark street corner in downtown DC. Jonathan darts in for a brief peck, before pulling back fully and pulling his hand away from Ronan’s face.

“Okay.” He grins at him conspiratorially. “Call me.” And with a wink, he turns around and walks away down the street.

Ronan doesn’t quite know how long he stands on the corner, grinning to himself like a fool, before he manages to shake himself and walk to the metro.

****

“Coming back to my place?” Ronan asks as they walk out of the Mexican restaurant where he and Jonathan had met for a late dinner.

Jonathan pulls him into his body with a hand around his waist and presses a kiss to Ronan’s neck.

“Yes.” Jonathan answers, soft smile gracing his features.

So Ronan takes Jonathan’s hand and pulls him towards the metro stop, listening with half an ear as Jonathan details the latest speech writing drama.

He can’t quite believe that it has been almost 3 months since they started going out. The morning after they first met, Ronan had gotten Jonathan’s number from Tommy. He’d been slightly nervous about what he’d tell Tommy, but Tommy, like the good guy he was, had just wordlessly held out Lovett’s number after the latest NSC meeting, before Ronan had even quite formulated the request.

“I figured you may want this, when I saw you two sneaking out together yesterday.” Tommy grinned, easy and welcoming. Ronan felt himself blush but just gratefully took the number for Tommy.

Since then, well, it had certainly been an adventure. They had, without talking about it, apparently both decided that this was serious from day one and the limited time they had, gave the whole thing a special feeling. Jonathan had been better than anything Ronan could have dreamed, as a friend, a conversation partner, a lover.

He has never quite felt able to be this much himself, unfiltered, nerdy, able to show his feelings fully, as he does with Jonathan.

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?” Jonathan hits his arm, as they make their way down the escalator into the metro station, glad to be out of the biting cold that early December brought to DC.

Ronan rubs his hands together, apologetically looking up at Jonathan.

“Sorry, darling. Guilty as charged.”

“3 months, and he is already taking me for granted.” Jonathan says to no one, given that they are alone on the platform, waiting for the train, except for the sounds of the busker playing some Christmas music that softly drifts through the cavernous station.

“Never.” Ronan replies, with maybe more meaning that is strictly appropriate. He reaches out a hand to Jonathan and winds his arms around his neck, swaying them slightly to the faint sound of *Driving home for Christmas*.

Forehead to forehead, in this close intimate space they have, even in such a public space, Ronan feels the merciless ticking of time. He wants every minute with this man in from of him.

“So, hey, Jonathan. I know this may be a bit early, but, ahmm…, do you have plans for Christmas?” Ronan asks, heart beating at a higher pace than it should for such a simple question.

“Not really. I’m flying down to my parents around New Year’s but until then, I’m free.” Jonathan replies.

“Would you… Do you want to spend Christmas with me? Come up to the farm with me?” Ronan asks.

Jonathan’s eyes widen and Ronan loves him for knowing what this means, that this isn’t just a holiday invitation, but something much more. Loves that Jonathan knows how protective Ronan is of his family and the sanctuary his mother built for them and knows what it means for Ronan to invite him into that.

Jonathan just smiles softly, eyes crinkling.

“Sure.” He replies simply.

It feels like a promise for much more than this Christmas.


End file.
